


Short Bursts

by DetectiveDorian



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: F/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-10-22 10:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10694706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveDorian/pseuds/DetectiveDorian
Summary: Random one-shots that are too short for stories on their own, in two to three mini-stories per chapter, involving everyone's favorite fox and bunny, of course.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So as the title implies, my inspiration tends to come in short bursts and often when I least expect it. These stories came about when I had easy access to a word processor and I wasn't driving, at work, or otherwise indisposed. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Attitude**  
  
Vixens had a reputation for being promiscuous. That was one of many "facts of life" that had simply been around forever. That didn't make them true, but it was a difficult stereotype to shake among the general population.  
  
So, a vixen standing on a street corner in a dress down to her knees, the hem slightly wrinkled for obvious reasons, a matching hat and little purse no doubt carrying wads of cash from her more than likely numerous partners that day was unsurprising. Of course, there was more to me than met the eye, not that any other male would know that at first leer.  
  
"Well, well." I turned my head, keeping my chin low as my hat cast a shadow over most of my face. I couldn't see above his knees, but from what I could see of his feet and his tail, he was a light brown timberwolf. "Aren't you a pretty little catch?" The wolf spoke in a low growl, attempting to sound confident and intimidating but instead coming off as trying entirely too hard. But, I still shrunk back as his larger paw gripped my shoulder, and I turned away. "Don't play so coy," he said, leaning in close to press his nose to my cheek. "You know what I'm here for..." I tried not to gag or bear my teeth in disgust; His breath was foul.   
  
No wonder he had to pay for female company.  
  
I smiled shyly under my hat, still hiding my teeth, and nodded. His grip on my shoulder tightened as he got more excited, breathing out a laugh. The wolf tugged me along as he walked towards the nearby alleyway. The other girls on the sidewalk shifted to the side as we passed, and I clutched my purse to my side protectively. I couldn't see their faces, but a tigress had obviously turned to watch us once we disappeared into the shadows. "Let's make this quick," said the john gruffly, dropping the persona he'd pulled on with which to "seduce" me, reaching into his back pocket and producing a fat wallet. "Hundred-forty, and I _might_ give you twenty-five extra, _if_ I really enjoy it."  
  
How generous.  
  
I unclasped my purse, meekly holding out my palm as my other paw reached in. "C'mon, I'm clean. Don't ya trust me?" I didn't say anything. He took my silence as a "no", and he produced a few more bills. "Fine, two-hundred and you can get a morning-after pill." After a second, I pulled my empty paw out of my purse, and he placed the respectable stack of cash in my waiting palm. "Alright, stuff it in your little purse and turn around, I ain't got all day."  
  
I took my time, using my thumb to flick the bills, counting them. Satisfied, I put them in my purse. Clearly, this was taking too long, and he snapped his paw out to grab my wrist, being none-too-gentle as he tried to yank me around. "I said--"  
  
"I heard you." He froze, eyes wide as he stared my face. I lifted my head as I pulled on my best smirk, and my badge from my purse. "Fortunately, I'm a lot more patient than you are," I said in my deep, obviously-not-a-vixen voice. I dropped my badge, reversed my grip to his forearm with a small twist, then hooked one foot behind his knee as I shoved. The john was so surprised that he couldn't begin to resist as I rolled him onto his chest and pulled his arm up in a hold, taking out my handcuffs from my purse. "You are under arrest for solicitation and assaulting an undercover officer. You have the right to remain silent." As I read the john his rights and cuffed him, my ears twitched as I heard the heavy pounding of footsteps, though I didn't have the courage to call Officer Fangmeyer "heavy".  
  
"Good work, Wilde," said a tall tigress, placing her taser back into her purse. "Didn't even have to wrinkle my skirt." She reached down, grabbing the wolf by the cuffed arms and hauling him to his feet with one paw. The wolf, still in shock, gawked at me.   
  
"You're a guy!?" Still smirking, I curtsied, spreading my dress to either side of my body and picking up my hat as Fangmeyer escorted the wolf down the alleyway as an unmarked cruiser rolled up silently on the empty street at the other end, so as not to spook the real streetwalkers or potential johns. The passenger's side door opened and a white timberwolf dropped to the asphalt, shaking his head disappointedly at the john, clucking his tongue. "Oh, bite me!" snarled the john at Wolford, who frowned.  
  
"Watch your head, lover boy." Wolford opened the back door of the cruiser and Fanmeyer shoved the john into the back seat before slamming the door again. After a brief exchange, Wolford got back into the passenger seat to call in the arrest. I looked to my right as a long pair of grey black-tipped ears entered my peripheral vision, and Officer Judy Hopps glared up at me.   
  
"What's up, Officer Hopps?" I asked, though I knew exactly why she was upset.  
  
Arms crossed over her chest, one of her feet tapped rapidly on the ground as she petulantly puffed up her cheeks in a way that was entirely too adorable, and I made a mental note to tease her mercilessly about it later. "It's not fair." She flung one paw at the dark street. "I was on that same corner for days and I didn't even get a leer, and you were there for two hours, on your first night and you already got an arrest! You'd think a bunny would be the obvious choice--"  
  
"Fluff, it's not about species, it's about _attitude,"_ I said patiently, smoothing out a crease in my dress and adjusting my hat. "You carried yourself too confidently, and it's a turn-off when you act like you're able to break a guy's thumb and steal his wallet. That, and you brush your teeth." I leaned down so that I was eye-level with her as Judy wrinkled her nose. "Whereas I don't want to be here. I'm here because I'm down on my luck, and willing to perpetuate a stereotype for some cash to put food on the table, and entirely too weak and submissive and broken to look my johns in the eye."  
  
"I can't help but think you've done this before."  
  
I chuckled, straightening up. "I can neither confirm nor deny that I've worn a dress on at least one occasion."  
  
"Ah. Did Finnick have a cane and a feathered hat?"  
  
"A coat, too."  
  
"...I can never tell when you're joking."  
  
"Good. I like keeping you guessing." I pulled on the smarmiest, smuggest grin I could muster, the one Judy had long since stopped pretending she hated, and she punched me in the shoulder. "Ah!" Melodramatically, I reached for my fellow officers. "Police brutality! You two saw it. Ah, what's a girl to do!?"  
  
"Walk it off, sweetheart," said Fangmeyer as she walked by without looking at us, and Wolford merely laughed to himself as Judy rolled her eyes. "You've still got work to do."  
  
\- - -  
  
 **Attorney**  
  
"Did you always want to be a cop?"  
  
Judy Hopps looked up at me from the menu, ears perked upwards and half of a doughnut tucked into one of her cheeks. "Hrm?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled from a full mouth.   
  
We were in our favorite diner, Buckley's, in our usual booth at the window nearest the door. Technically still on-duty, though on our lunch break, we had decided to sit as close to the front door as possible just in case we were called in on something. Joe Buckley himself had given us complementary freshly-hoof-made doughnuts of our choice. I had, of course, chosen blueberry cake, while Carrots had decided on a sour-cream old-fashioned to go with her coffee.  
  
"Just curious," I said, figuring that Judy had heard me fine - she was just surprised at my admittedly sudden question. "You told me you'd wanted to be a cop ever since you were three. I was just wondering if that was consistent, or if you... Went through a phase."  
  
Judy swallowed her bite of pastry and sipped her coffee. She was thinking on how to answer - I could tell, because her ears twitched and moved as if they were antenna adjusting on an old television. My guess was because she wanted to phrase it in a way that wouldn't leave her open to teasing.  
  
Good luck with that.  
  
Finally, she relented, letting out a sigh. "Well, in my sophomore year--" I leaned on the table, both of my paws moving up to press to either cheek, my bottom lip pinned between my teeth, and my tail swishing back and forth behind me.   
  
"Go _ooooon,"_ I urged her teasingly, eyebrows lifting as I waited with baited breath. Judy scoffed, already exasperated, and she rolled her amethyst eyes, ears falling back against her shoulders.  
  
"If you're going to make fun of me, I'm not telling you," she threatened, pointing her half a doughnut at me. I lifted my hand, pressing my fingers to my chest. Before I'd even opened my mouth to mock my hurt pride, she continued. "I'm serious, Nick." I blinked, letting my hands fall back on the table. As much as I hated to admit it, Judy had a certain way of taking the wind out of my sails, developed from long exposure to my various methods of tormenting people.   
  
It's a wonder I haven't driven her insane by now. Or, maybe I had and that was why she hasn't ditched me.  
  
"Is it that embarrassing?" I asked, straightening up and curling my tail around the leg of my chair, since I could practically feel the anger of the large mammal behind me, whose chair legs had been batted by russet fur during my attempt at teasing her. I could only imagine that our reputations and the blue uniforms were the only things that had kept him from wrapping me around a lamppost.  
  
"No," answered the rabbit before me, looking back down at the menu. "It was just as important as my dream of being a cop." She pursed her lips, letting the menu fall on the table as she took a deep breath, then looked up again. "I wanted to be a lawyer, briefly."  
  
That actually gave me a fair amount of pause. "Oh."  
  
"...'Oh'?" she echoed, narrowing her eyes. "What, no 'bunny-ears lawyer' jokes? No jokes about how law school has even higher bottom rungs to jump to than the police academy? I bet you probably have a big 'whoopsie' speech for court-appointed bunny attorneys, too." She pulled on a big, smug grin, not unlike the the one she'd given me such a long time ago, in front of a sloth. After a long silence, it faded. "Really?" asked Judy softly as I just watched her, having honestly been kind of thrown for a loop. "Nothing at all?"  
  
For a moment longer, I was quiet, then said, "I bet you'd make District Attorney in a month." Her cheeks bristled, and the insides of her ears turned a hot shade of pink before she lowered them to hide the obvious blush.  
  
"That's not how it works," she argued, but she obviously couldn't help a small smile at the compliment.  
  
"You'd make it work," I said, leaning forward again. "Besides, if you followed that dream, came to the big city of Zootopia after becoming the valedictorian of Harevard, I bet you anything that your first case would be me."  
  
"...What?" Her eyes widened, and she blinked up at me.  
  
"I was going down a dark road before you came along." I had told her something like this before, but not quite with this context. "If I wasn't... Dead, I'd probably  have been pulled in for something I didn't do, even more cynical and depressed than I already was, didn't trust the system, and probably would have tried to fire you at one point." Judy listened, her doughnut lay forgotten on the table. I reached up, scratching the back of my neck as I pursed my lips in thought. "Actually, would the Night Howler thing have happened by then? Jeez, it's weird to think of what we'd have been like if one of us... Decided on something else."  
  
"Bellweather might have been well into her campaign by then," said Judy, rubbing her chin. "Would we have been able to stop her?"  
  
"...'We'?" It was my turn to echo. "Carrots, do you really think that I'd still go along with you at that point? I'd be in lockup, probably about to get my fuzzy tail thrown in the cllink."  
  
"It's not like I didn't do..." She lowered her voice, mouthing the words "questionably legal". "...things after I pulled you in a couple years ago." She had me there, though she was clearly embarrassed. "I bet I could convince someone to let you come with me to the scene of the crime. Maybe even look at traffic cameras."  
  
"Yeah, but then we wouldn't have any need to go to the Mystic Oasis. I know you love that place." I grinned, and Judy puffed out her cheeks  
  
"Well, the DMV would probably have been skipped, too." Ouch.  
  
"Maybe they'd at least give you more than forty-eight hours."  
  
"Court cases can take weeks, maybe even months, to go through anyway."  
  
The waitress finally came by, apologizing for interrupting the conversation and the wait. Once our orders were taken, we put the menus away and looked out the window at the city.  
  
"Have you ever thought about being a lawyer again?" I asked. Judy's ear swiveled in my direction, and she leaned back in her chair.   
  
"Well, my parents were overjoyed when I said I was thinking about it, after being obsessed, researching good schools, even picked out a pair of glasses once." I valiantly tried, and failed, not to think of Judy in a business suit, dress, and black-rimmed glasses. Oof, that one would hold me for a few nights. "They probably thought it was a lot safer in a courtroom than the front lines."  
  
"Which, in our hypothetical alternate universe, you'd have jumped into the front lines dragging me by the muzzle anyway."  
  
Judy snorted into her coffee. After mopping up the minor spray, she shrugged. "I'm a trier and a rebel. I didn't want my parents _approving_ of something I wanted to do, especially not in high school. I wanted to become a cop out of spite. But, I still wanted to make them proud of me, so." Her palms lifted and she shrugged. "I grew out of that phase pretty quick, too, right after I got my diploma. I wanted to help people. Going into the academy out of spite... Would have been stupid."  
  
For a few seconds, I nodded, crossing my arms on the table. "Yeah, a spiteful, angry Judy isn't as good as happy, determined Judy. But that didn't answer my question. You ever want to be a lawyer again?"  
  
Judy looked up, taking a breath, then sighed, leaning forward. "Every now and then," she admitted.  
  
"I bet I'd make a great prosecutor."  
  
"Objection."  
  
"Overruled, I've already decided."  
  
Judy laughed. "Prosecutors aren't judges."  
  
"Ooh, I bet I could be a judge, too."  
  
"You can't be everything."  
  
"I _have_ been everything."  
  
"Impersonation is also a felony."  
  
I clutched my chest. "You wound me. I'll have you know I only impersonated a lawyer once, and it was at a bar."  
  
"Trying to impress a lady?"   
  
"Turns out she was _actually_ a lawyer. I avoided the Meadowlands for about six years after that."  
  
Judy snickered softly, about to respond, when our radios crackled. "Oh, turnips." She stood up in her chair, one ear pointed down to listen to the transmission. "Buckley, make our orders to go! Nick, grab the food, I'll pull the cruiser around." She left a few bills on the table for a tip before dropping to the floor.  
  
As she disappeared out the door, I heard her respond to the call through my own radio, and I stood up, finishing off my coffee and accepting the pair of to-go boxes that Joe Buckley held out over the bar. "Figured somethin' like that woulda happened. I'd almost put these on plates, too."  
  
"Thanks, Joe." Once I handed him the money, I turned and headed for the door just as the massive cruiser screeched to a halt, red and blue lights already flashing.  
  
"Ready to make the world a better place?" asked the bunny in the driver's seat, extending a loose fist as I pulled down the safety belt.  
  
"One day at a time, Carrots." I reciprocated her gesture.   
  
As we sped off, sirens blaring, I couldn't help but wonder, if Judy chose to take her career to the courtroom, would I follow her?  
  
Well, _duh._  
  
\- - -  
  
 **Stutter**  
  
"'Ey, kid, whatchoo doin'?"  
  
I looked up, blinking away tears. For a second, I thought I was seeing things. That voice had been way too deep and abrasive for this kid to have talked to me. "Wh-what?" I choked out.  
  
The sandy, big-eared fox frowned. "I asked yo' whassup," he said, and I actually flinched. "If y'gonna ignore me, I'mma keep goin'."  
  
"Th-they-- R-ranger Scouts... B-b-beat me up." The fox's eyebrows pulled together in a thick line as he looked up at the building. "M-m-m--" There it was, my stutter. It was back. Weeks of preparation, of determination, of confidence, gone. The short fox - I was already taller than him, and I was eight or nine - looked back at me, showing a lot of patience as I tried my hardest to talk through my tears. "Mu-muz-muh..." I reached up and grabbed my ears, pulling them down over my head. Frustrated, I gave up and jerked my nose in the direction of the cub-sized device that the prey Scouts had forced over my snout.  
  
The fox's eyebrows shot up as he looked at the muzzle, eyes widened, and massive ears pinned back against his skull. Tiny fists clenched, and I buried my face back into my paws as the tears came back in force. "Y'want me to get 'em?" he asked. I paused and looked up again, blinking. "I'll do it. Nobody deserves that. Some punk kids needa lesson learned, I'mma learn 'em."  
  
"N-nuh-nnn-no!" I gasped. "Don-don't hurt them, I--" I choked on my tears again, then just hugeed myself around my chest. Rocking back and forth on my feet, I shook my head. "I j-juh-ju-just wanna g-guh-go home."  
  
The fennec - I'd later learn that his name was Finnick - growled. Not at me, but it still made me cringe. After a moment, and after glaring at the muzzle, he stepped close, falling to one knee. "C'mon, get up. I'll get ya home." His voice was almost gentle as he reached out, hooking small arms under mine and pulling me to his chest. My face went into his shoulder, and my hands hugged him as tight as I could manage. "Dis ain't a hug, kid, I'm just--" But I didn't care. This was what I needed, and as I whined, Finnick huffed. For a few moments, I cried into his shoulder, and he awkwardly rubbed my back.   
  
As I trudged up my stoop, ears low and eyes still a little watery, I stopped, and looked over my shoulder. Finnick was still there, arms crossed over his chest as he glared in the direction we'd come, grinding his teeth. "Th-thank you," I managed, reaching for my doorknob.  
  
Finnick glanced to me, then away again. "Whatever. Tell ya moms or don't. I'll be around." And then the fennec fox stomped away, leaving me standing in front of my front door. What would I say? Probably not much, if my stutter persisted. She'd be able to tell something happened whether I said something or not. She always had, she always will.   
  
I looked up from my bottle. Judy's large purple eyes were fixed on me, and one of her paws was on my wrist. "And that's how I met Finnick," I finished casually, as if I hadn't just poured my heart out to my best friend, partner, and roommate. Again. "I didn't tell my mom what happened that night for... Over two decades, jeez. Anyway, I'd met Finn again a couple years later, ended up partnering with him ever since. Until a couple years ago when a bunny came along and ruined my life for the better."  
  
Her paw was soft, but she held on with a grip that I swear could bend steel if she really wanted to. My other paw held a bottle of root beer - Judy had been insistent, since we had work tomorrow - and I lifted it to take a pull. "You had a stutter?" she asked softly. That wasn't the question she wanted to ask, I could tell, but she probably wanted to hold off on more questions that would lead to more sad memories. I appreciated it, but really, she could ask me if I had had a crush on any of my teachers in high school and I'd tell her without hesitation.  
  
"Still do. It... Never really went away."   
  
_"I-I-I didn't see nothing! I'm not saying nothing!"_  
  
 _"You gave her a-a-a clown vest and a three-wheeled jokemobile?"_  
  
Judy's ears flicked back and forth like TV antenna again. I'd still not teased her about those yet. "I never knew. But, I guess I wouldn't, would I?" Her paw stroked my arm gently as she looked down.   
  
"Hey, you're getting secrets out of me little by little," I said, reaching up to ruffle the fur between her ears, which splayed and pinned back from the attention. "That's gotta count for something."  
  
"I mean..." Judy pursed her lips, batting away my paw. "That's not my goal, Nick, you know that."  
  
"Of course it isn't. If I didn't want to talk to you about my past, I wouldn't talk about it."  
  
"I feel like I'm learning a lot about you, but I've only told you a few things about me..."  
  
"Well, that's just because I can glean a lot from you without you telling me anything. But, I think we've paused this movie for too long." I gestured at the screen, and Judy blinked at the TV. It was on a still of a relatively old animated movie I hadn't seen in a decade or so. I actually couldn't remember how the movie had spurred the conversation about my first meeting with Finnick, but it had.   
  
Maybe I had compared him to a giant metal monster? That sounds like me.  
  
Judy smiled up at me, and I lifted my arm so that she could nestle back into my side, lifting the remote to resume the film.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three more bursts, this time from the perspective of Judy Hopps.

**Muscles**  
  
"Honey, you're leering."  
  
I jumped, looking over my shoulder as Mom approached to my left. "What? No, I--"  
  
Mom's eyebrows lifted, and her head tilted down, her bottom lip pushing upwards in the barest hint of a disappointed frown. I knew that look; It was the universal "Mom-look" of mild disappointment that her child wasn't being honest. I turned back to the field, already feeling a hot flush travel slowly up my ears. "He's a handsome boy, isn't he?" Mom asked, her paws clasping in front of her apron. She smelled like blueberry pancakes.  
  
I could only nod as bunnies - family and friends, males and females alike - worked hard for their living, gathering carrots, rhubarb, blueberries, and wheat. Nick was out there, having insisted to help on the farm, since I couldn't, despite Mom and Dad's insistance that they were fine. We were, after all, on vacation. "Yeah," I agreed, reaching down to rub my wrapped-up ankle with a wince. It was only a minor break, but Bogo insisted on my taking medical leave, and instructed Nick to join me, since we'd both been building up too much vacation time and not using it.  
  
Nick was working alongside my siblings and several male volunteers from Bunnyburrow. He'd taken his shirt off and was working in a pair of jeans that were just slightly too small, a pair of gloves not quite meant for claws of his size, and a cap that I'd given him as a joke gift that was designed after the one Dad often wore, except instead of a carrot, it had the logo of a blueberry.   
  
He'd only taken the hat off when at work, taking a shower, and when he went to sleep. And that was only because I'd caught him trying to shower in it.  
  
I watched as Nick hefted a crate full of carrots. With visible effort, he heaved it onto his right shoulder, shifted the weight so that it was more secure, and started walking towards a nearby trailer. His chest muscles became more defined under his fur, which had thinned a bit in the spring months. His abdominal muscles rippled, his bicep under the crate flexed to hold it steady. Once the crate was in the trailer, he spoke briefly to Dad, who clapped Nick on the shoulder. Even though I couldn't hear him from where I was, Nick laughed and quipped, making Dad chuckle.  
  
Nick turned around, rolling his shoulders. His back muscled tensed, going solid on either side of his spine. His tail swished back and forth, briefly catching my eyes away from his taut--  
  
"Yeah, that Peterson boy certainly has grown," said Mom, looking over to me knowingly. Tearing my eyes away from Nick, I glanced to her, blinking. Realizing I was biting my lip, I coughed, looking back as Frank Peterson stepped past Nick, holding two crates of carrots under his arms. He was trying too hard, trying to impress the female bunnies around him; It wasn't working, since you didn't need to be a cop to see that he was struggling quite a bit with the weight. He didn't want to be outdone by a fox in his attempts to woo the Hopps girls, so he flexed even harder, expending way too much energy showing off.   
  
Once he dropped the crates, hard, onto the trailer, Frank leaned casually on the railing, attempting to look nonchalant as he looked directly over to me, sucking in his gut and sticking his chest out.   
  
"Mm," I intoned, keeping my face blank. For several seconds, Frank remained where he was before he seemed to get the clue, and awkwardly turned from me to walk back to the field and back to work, trying to subtly rub his sore and aching arms.  
  
A glass of lemonade appeared in my vision, and I blinked again, looking up at mom as I grabbed it. "He's a good boy, you know. He means well. Been visiting the farm lately. You know, he's fond of you." I already felt my eyes going glassy. Yep, there she went. Tuning Mom out as she talked about Frank Peterson's qualities, I looked back at Nick again. He'd moved to an untilled field, hefting a slightly undersized hoe as he struck the earth.  
  
Arms worked and shoulders heaved, his face a mask of determination. This dirt wasn't going to beat him. It was fertile ground, red clay splitting from the strikes of the tool as he moved backwards. His jeans were slightly too small, so they hugged around his legs more than was probably comfortable, but he hadn't complained. And, well, I wasn't, either.   
  
He'd told me yesterday that he'd done a lot of grunt work over the years, so this wasn't much different.  
  
"Weren't you a tailor?" I had asked, squinting at him.  
  
"A tailor for a crime boss," he'd corrected me. "Ask Emmitt; Florists and tailors sometimes have to get their hands dirty." I didn't dare ask what that implied.  
  
"...so I figured you wouldn't mind chatting with him once the carrots were shipped," finished Mom, looking down at me expectantly. I was surprised she wasn't happily announcing that our kits would be beautiful. Without missing a beat, and tearing my eyes off of Nick with some effort, I looked up at Mom with a smile.   
  
"Sure, sounds fun," I lied, sipping at my lemonade and resigned to the fact that Mom was going to set us up for a date as soon as I could hobble out of bed. I'm ashamed to admit, I'd been exaggerating the pain in my leg when on the Hopps compound, just a little bit. Satisfied, Mom turned from me, and stepped off of the porch to deliver hydration to Dad and the other workers. I hated to admit it, but it had gotten a lot easier to lie to my parents lately; Sure, she could tell when I was leering, but somehow she either wasn't able to tell I wasn't making googly-eyes at Frank in the slightest, or chose to ignore it in hopes of me "coming to my senses". I chose to believe former was the true one.  
  
Really, the main reason I was uninterested in Frank was that he'd gone through a lot of girlfriends in high school, claiming to be a direct descendant to Peter Cottontail. Sure, his surname was Peterson, but I'd done my research: "Peterson" was a very common name for bunnies, and I'd refused to date bucks who seemed to collect notches in his bedpost like some mammals collected stamps.  
  
Nick accepted his glass of lemonade gratefully, saluting my mom before tilting the large mason jar back. His jaw worked up and down as the liquid poured down his doubtlessly parched throat. His neck bulged as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful, his shoulders bunching up, then relaxing with each swallow. Some small drops fell from his chin, and even from this distance, I watched them travel down his chest. Muscles tensed and rippled from the sudden cold of the liquid dripping through his fur, an ice cube bounced off his collarbone to land in the trench he'd just dug.  
  
The jar emptied too quickly, and he lowered his arm too soon. His muscles relaxed, but even at rest they were defined enough to be noticeable. He leaned on the hoe, thanking Mom for the drink.   
  
Mom giggled, waving her paw at him, and he laughed, hefting the tool up again and looking over to me. Our eyes met, and Nick smirked knowingly. Realizing, again, that I was biting my lip, I coughed, lifting my own glass to my lips and tipping it back, being just slightly too overzealous with it, and more than a little lemonade spilled onto my flannel shirt.  
  
Oh, _cabbages._ I wasn't going to live that down.  
  
\- - -  
  
 **Perspective**  
  
"So... Are foxes always the heroes in your childhood stories?" I asked, glancing at my partner as I stopped at an intersection. Nick's ears flicked, and he looked over. I could tell he was blinking behind his apparently very expensive aviator shades. "I'm just curious," I added, before he could ask why the sudden question.  
  
He set his jaw slightly forward for a second, then straightened up from his lounging position leaned against the door, scratching the back of his neck. "Almost always, yeah," he said, nodding. He smiled, tipping his head back. "Robin of Loxley, Don Diego de la Vega - Zorro. Most legends in fox culture have foxes as _dashing rogues."_ He dropped his voice an octave and rolled the R in "rogues", fingers pressing lightly to his own chest as he tilted his head in my direction.   
  
Serendipity, I wish he'd stop using that voice on the job. Not that I'd tell him that, because he might actually stop.  
  
"And I bet most of your stories have rabbits as the heroes," said Nick, his paws moving up to lace his fingers behind his head. I could tell he was scanning the sidewalk to our right even though his head was facing forward.   
  
"I mean..." I drummed my thumbs on the steering wheel, shoulders lifting a little bit. "Yeah, honestly? I can't really think of any offhand that have rabbits as a villain. Except maybe Foo Foo, but that's more... A bully who went too far, and saw the error of his ways in the end."  
  
"Those poor little fieldmice," tsked Nick, shaking his head.   
  
I snickered to myself, glancing over to an elephant whose groceries spilled out of her trunk. A passing deer stopped to help her, and I smiled at the display. Once the light turned green, I rolled us along the road, going back to the conversation. "Are there fox villains in your legends?" I asked, glancing to Nick again, but kept my eyes on the road for the most part.  
  
Nick was quiet for a moment or two, before he pursed his lips in thought. "Well... Kind of. The stories are mostly lessons and warnings about Karma."   
  
"The celestial, right?" I remembered he'd talked about her before, mostly in that she tended to govern retribution, whether positive or negative, for mortals.   
  
"Yep. 'Rule of Three; Three Acts, and the Circle is complete'." He must have seen the confusion on my face, because he smirked and reached over to tweak my ear. "Basically, whether you do good or bad, if you do it three times, you'll either be rewarded... Or punished. And you'll never know when it'll happen, or which deeds are counted first." His head turned away from me as he looked out the window, chewing on his bottom lip. "It became tradition for me, when I was hustling, that if I did two bad things, I'd follow them up with good things. That's not how it works, by the way."   
  
"Karma doesn't judge things in rows, then?" He shook his head, shoulders shifting against the seat as he peered at a truck that had rolled its front wheels beyond the line at a stop sign. The driver noticed us and smiled nervously. Soon, we were moving again.   
  
I'll say one thing: I sometimes miss the rural and near-empty roads of Bunnyburrow, if just for the peace and quiet.  
  
"You ever heard of Chickenhound and Sela?" asked my partner after a minute of silence, pronouncing the second name almost like "Seller", but with a slight accent.  
  
I felt my ears flick as I thought, racking my brains. "Can't say I have. Most foxes aren't given names in bunny legends."  
  
"Chickenhound isn't really the hero of the fable, and he's been given a few names. 'Chickenhound' is just the most common one. And the most apt in my opinion." He muttered that last sentence, before shaking his head. "Anyway, Chickenhound and his mother Sela are... The lesson."  
  
"Of what?" I asked, rounding a corner around a convenience store.   
  
"Well, let me tell the story and maybe you'll learn what Karma does to naughty foxes." He tilted his head down, sliding his shades along his muzzle to show his eyes as he smirked at me. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head.   
  
"Fine, go ahead."  
  
"Well." Nick paused, pushing his shades back up again and clearing his throat. "Sela and Chickenhound were gypsy healers way back, a long time ago in a land across the sea. One day, a rat warlord laid siege to an abbey of mice and was injured during a battle. They were hired to nurse him back to health, under the promise of a share of the spoils once the abbey fell to his army." Nick lifted his arms, palms up. "Ol' Sela and her son decided to play both sides of the war, so she figured out how the warlord was going to attack next, and tried to sell that information to the abbey. Whoever won, she'd still get her payment.   
  
"There's a lot of stuff that happened; Long story short, the warlord knew what she was up to from the beginning, one of his lieutenants got killed when she met with the rats' enemy for her payment, and the final straw was when she and her son had listened in when he was discussing more attack plans, since the first one was just a diversion." He shook his head sadly, looking over to me. My ear was swiveled in his direction so I could hear him perfectly. "The rat leader ordered them to be executed and thrown in a ditch for their treason."  
  
I winced, wondering what Nick had to have thought when hearing that story as a kit. Then again, I couldn't talk; I'd looked up the true origins of a lot of my childhood stories and I discovered a common theme: Medieval times were brutal. "That is certainly some retribution," I remarked.  
  
"Yeah, that's the end of Sela's story," Nick confirmed, nodding. "Done in by her own greed, even if Cluny the Scourge wasn't as clever as he had been."  
  
My ears twitched. I couldn't quite put my finger on where I'd heard it, but that name was familiar. But, there was a more important question. "What about Chickenhound?" I asked, and my partner smirked.  
  
Nick chuckled, looking over his sunglasses at me. "I figured you'd pick up on that, Future Detective. See, Chickenhound barely survived his execution. He got kicked into the ditch, the body of his mom landing on top of him, but even though he was injured, he'd heal once he got medical attention. So, first chance he got, he booked it to the abbey."  
  
I groaned. "Of course he did." This certainly sounded like a fox that would have been the villain in bunny stories.  
  
"Once he was treated, he gave the abbot the information about Cluny's secondary plan. Chickenhound was given shelter, food, treatment, and rest. And--"  
  
"Let me guess," I interrupted, glancing over with a smirk of my own. "He robbed them blind."  
  
"Killed a brother of the abbey, too." My ears fell back against my shoulders, and I winced. "Yeah, stuffed a sack full of silverware, statues, other small items. He was caught in the act and in his desperation, hit a brother of the abbey over the head with the haul. Remember, these were mice." Nick smirked at me as I desperately tried, and failed, to get the mental image of a heavy sack filled with valuables coming down onto a poor mouse's head.   
  
"Sweet cheese and crackers," I murmured.  
  
"Yeah, probably wasn't pretty. Anyway, he escaped, and dove into a hole to avoid being captured. Turns out it was the wrong hole." Nick reached over to grab the lukewarm coffee from the cupholder on his side and took a sip. "Just when it looked like he was home free, Karma reared her head in the form of an adder. A really big, venomous snake," he added, anticipating a question.  
  
"I know what an adder is, Nick," I chided, rolling my eyes as we came to yet another red light. "They're in a lot of rabbit legends, too. So the lesson is, 'Don't be a murderous jerk or else get eaten by a giant snake'?"  
  
"Well, it's more, 'Don't take advantage of the kindness and hospitality of others'. There's also a lesson in greed making foxes stupid in there."  
  
"Guess you never learned that one, Slick."  
  
"Hey, I'm better," he said defensively.  
  
We laughed together for a second before moving on. "So, Karma's agents of retribution are really big snakes?"   
  
"Well... Not usually." Nick's shoulders rolled as he shifted in the passenger seat. "Asmodeus was just convenient at the time."  
  
My ears shot up. "Wait, 'Asmodeus'?" Nick looked over, lifting his sunglasses. "Karma used the monster in the closet to bring retribution on a fox?"  
  
"Wait, bunnies have Asmodeus too?" I nodded, my eyes wide as I watched the road. I remembered having nightmares about giant snakes swallowing me hole up until my third year of college. He frowned thoughtfully, his brows lifting. "Huh. Small world. Yeah, but like I said, he was just a tool of convenience. Asmodeus has a lot of his own legends, usually ghost stories to tell around campfires and to warn fox kits to come in before dark, or go to sleep when told. 'Asmodeus' wasn't his real name, it was a title. He was basically a serial killer in those days; hypnotizing victims, hunting any rodent or anything small enough to bite and swallow until he was killed by a shrew."  
  
"I thought it was a mouse," I interjected, looking over to Nick with a furrowed brow. "Basil Staghare talked about it in his memoirs."  
  
"Who?"  
  
I had to remember that, while Nick read a lot, his collection of books hadn't branched out to non-fox culture all too much. Apparently he wanted to relive a lot of his childhood stories. "Basil's Tales," I explained. "They were memoirs of a military hare from Mossflower that were published when I was really little. A lot of mothers had tried to ban the book from school libraries because they, and I'm not kidding, 'Glorified adventure and endorsed dangerous behavior'. Basil was... Well, imagine me, but really eccentric."   
  
Nick wheezed out a laugh, doubling over. "Wait, hold on," he choked. "You're telling me, a decades-old journal from a rabbit that for all the Tri-Burrows knew made everything up was banned?"  
  
"There were _attempts,"_ I corrected. "But, there is historical evidence that Basil's Tales had happened, even if he had exaggerated them in his writing. I doubt he took on three-dozen bilge rats all at once and limped away with a minor stab wound from a rusty spike, but that was kind of exciting, honestly. But because they're historically relevent, they weren't banned, just... Discouraged. I did a report on the memoirs in my senior year of high school."  
  
"Of course you did," said Nick smugly, and I could practically hear his smirk as I rolled down a corner.   
  
"Yeah, yeah. I won't deny that Basil was a big inspiration for me. I didn't know that there were military bunnies in history at the time, and I wish I'd found the book sooner. I guess in those days, you either knew how to defend yourself and others or you didn't." Nick was quiet, looking out the window as we approached a stop sign. As the cruiser came to a stop, my fingers drumming on the wheel, I mused, "I wonder if Fru Fru has any legends."  
  
"I bet the Ottertons know a few." Nick hadn't turned his head away from the window, his ears perked and his shoulders shifting slightly. I knew that posture.   
  
"What do you have?" I asked, my fingers curling tightly around the wheel. Slowly, Nick sat up, stretching his arms to the ceiling, then lazily turned his head to me, pushing his sunglasses back up to his face.  
  
He smirked. "Some punks who need to be reminded who Asmodeus is."   
  
I mirrored Nick's smirk, and he reached over to flip on the siren as I gunned the engine.  
  
\- - -  
  
 **Apologies**  
  
I watched as Nick took a deep breath, his shoulders bunching up for a moment. Drawing himself up, he approached the door, placed his paw on the handle, and pushed it open. Through the window of the interview room, where the parents of the victim had been waiting for four hours, I saw Nick approach.   
  
The wolves looked over hopefully, but from the expression on my partner's face, it wasn't good news. Nick swallowed visibly, his paws hanging loosely at his side as he stood poised, and solemnly fulfilled his duty. "I'm sorry" was the first thing he said, though I couldn't hear him through the soundproofed walls as he explained. For just a moment, the two wolves were frozen in place, but then the mother broke down.  
  
The father made a valiant but futile attempt to break the table in the middle of the room.  
  
Nick stayed back from them as they hugged each other. For several moments, the wolves embraced, but eventually the mother calmed down, and looked over to Nick. I wasn't as good as my partner at reading lips, but I saw her ask, "Can we see him?" Nick hesitated, opening his mouth, but closed it and turned away. He met my gaze, sorrow bleeding through his professional mask, before turning back to the mother.  
  
I couldn't begin to imagine how Nick felt, obligated to tell the parents that they would never see their child alive again, and why they would be forced to have a closed-casket funeral.  
  
My ears flicked behind me as heavy footsteps approached. "Hopps," said the deep voice of Chief Bogo. I turned my head, but didn't look up at his face. "I'm sorry."  
  
I swallowed. My throat was dry. "I had--" My voice broke for a second, and I took a moment to compose myself. "I'd promised them we'd save him. That they'd be a family again." Bogo said nothing, dropping to one knee and resting a massive hoof on my comparatively tiny shoulder with surprising gentleness. He didn't scold me; I knew that it was irresponsible to make promises like that, and I was already punishing myself. "I can't face them."  
  
"We don't always win, Hopps," said Bogo, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "Sometimes there are no victories. Howldon died the same night he'd disappeared, there was no way for you to know that." His deep bass was graveled in his own bottled up emotions. He called it compartmentalization. Nick practiced that, too, but I was terrible at it, I knew.   
  
Emotional bunnies.  
  
"You have to face families eventually, Hopps. It'll only get harder the longer you delay it."  
  
"I've managed to avoid having to deliver bad news for three years," I said, then kicked myself, shaking my head. "No, don't say anything, Chief, you're right. God, I just-- Look at them."  
  
The wolf parents had broken down; The father, his rage exhausted from taking it out on a table, had collapsed into sobs of his own. His weak fists impotently struck the wall opposite the window as he rested on his knees, his wife holding him from behind. I could hear their anguished wails even through the soundproofing. "I... I don't know if I can--"  
  
Nick had backed out of the room, closing the door quietly so as not to disturb the parents' sorrow. His shoulders finally slumped once he was out of their line of sight. One arm came up to press his paw to his face. For a few seconds, he composed himself, then turned away, walking towards us. "Officer Hopps, Chief," he said, nodding to each of us in turn. He didn't try to pretend he was okay, but he was trying his damndest to be professional as he looked to me.  
  
"Wilde, take the rest of the day." Nick nodded, not looking away from me for several more seconds, before turning to head for the lobby, murmuring that he'd wait for me there. "Hopps." Fidgeting, I finally looked up at Bogo, who reached up to remove his tiny spectacles. "There's still another family to see," he said. He watched me patiently as he said, "It isn't going to be any easier than what Wilde just did. I won't force you to speak with them if you don't feel you can. I understand, truly."  
  
I could feel my shoulders heave up and down as I looked past my superior at the other interview room. The family of polecats were getting antsy; They were pacing back and forth, arguing and snapping at each other at the slightest provocation. Their worry was palpable.  
  
"How do I tell them--" I stopped, my voice having raised in octave and pitch. Bogo's gaze didn't waver, and he waited. When I couldn't manage to complete the question, he sighed.  
  
"There is no answer to that question, Hopps. And... It doesn't get any easier, trust me." Bogo stood, towering above me. "But, you're an officer of the Zootopia Police Department, Precinct One. You have served and protected this city to the best of your ability alongside your partner. This has been an upsetting case for everyone. There is nothing to be ashamed of."  
  
"I'm not ashamed!" I snapped, then immediately cringed. Bogo barely reacted, taking a breath before letting it out.  
  
"The point is that as a police officer, you have duties to uphold. You don't have to take this one, today. But it will only get worse if you let it. I believe you can face them, as long as you simply state the facts." The facts. I'd done that once before, and I'd hurt someone I really cared about. Bogo must have seen my expression, and he sighed. "Very well. I can speak to them."  
  
"No." I turned away from the buffalo and the wolves in the interview room. "You're right, sir. I have to. I can-- I will tell them. It's my duty." I repeated that mantra to myself, walking towards the second interview room, where the family of polecats were waiting. "It's my duty."  
  
I stood at the door for a few minutes, my ears drooping, my shoulders sagging. Nick had taken forever to actually step into the room with the wolves, too. I took a deep breath, then let it out. I did that a few times, actually. Anxiety made me hesitate. I could feel Bogo's gaze on me from several yards away.   
  
If I kept thinking about it, I was going to convince myself not to. I'm a cop. "I'm a cop. It's my duty." I drew myself up, took a deep breath, then pushed the door open. The polecats looked over, all of them going still. The door closed behind me, and I knew they could read me like a book as I swallowed, opened my mouth, and solemnly fulfilled my duty. and said the last thing any family would ever want to hear.  
  
"I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I managed to have a Silly-Discussion-Serious in that order theme for these stories, but it certainly wasn't intentional.
> 
> And yes, the second story is a reference to Redwall. I'd listened to the first book not too long ago, and I feel like in the Zootopia universe the different perspectives would be a large part of the various cultures for the mammals. I also admit that I was probably quite heavy-handed with it, and I apologize. It just kinda happened that way.


End file.
